


guitar boy

by eri_zen



Series: episodic [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Implied Relationships, Light Angst, Multi, OT4, Pre-Relationship, they're all poly and bi/pan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-26 03:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20923766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eri_zen/pseuds/eri_zen
Summary: Marinette thinks Adrien and Kagami are slipping away.





	guitar boy

**Author's Note:**

> angst angst angst angst  
(But it's relatively short this time)

She looked down at the guitar in her hands, taking a break for the sake of her aching fingertips. Despite all the baking and saving she did, nothing cut into the fingers quite like someone else’s electric guitar.

On the body of it was the white part, the pick guard, closer on the body to the fretboard and neck. Further along, beyond frets under her fingers, the head stock and tuning keys - not that she could use them. She took stock of the different parts as though she needed to break it down and rebuild it on her own to become half a percent of the musician he was.

Of course, there was more to the guitar than just the parts. The pick guard, still a bright white, was beginning to lift off of the body, scratches and smudges from the burden of passionate hands.

The smell of the guitar, too, she just couldn’t shake. It must have been the smell of the case, or some cleaning supplies, or just the owner himself - maybe a mix. It filled her nose in the autumn air, with the smell of flannel and eucalyptus.

He had set the candle on the counter, and they only remembered or thought to light it once he had gotten up for some water. There was something about it that felt so distinctly like him, as though he were so calm he could even keep the elements in balance. For a free-spirited musician, he could steady her like nobody else.

That had been a few hours back. The sun had walked its course since then, the candle lifting away.

Something about the rare day off, or the swell in her chest as she took in the room, made her want to stay, right there, in the comfort of the illusion of pleasant stasis, holding a battered guitar.

Marinette looked up at the sound of steps in the hallway and smiled as Luka appeared, toting full glasses of cranberry juice and blackcurrant juice.

"I've got the goods," Luka said, smiling as he handed her the cranberry.

Marinette thanked him and set the guitar on a stand by the bed, a similarly worn thing with some bits of cushioning having fallen off completely.

Luka offered up his glass, and she clinked hers against it. They sat together, sipping.

It was quiet.

And it was nice.

The mattress dipped under their weight, and the boat steady on the waves, under the protection of the falling sun.

Marinette took a deep breath in as the condensation pooled under her glass.

Beside her, Luka's soft voice hummed. "You've been quiet today. Something on your mind?"

Marinette didn't know where to even begin with that.

"I think I just needed a break."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Marinette sipped at her drink, eyeing the guitar on its stand, running her thumb over the indents on her fingers.

"I think I just miss Adrien and Kagami."

Luka frowned. "They're still our friends, aren't they? Maybe you should reach out to them. They probably miss you, too."

"Hm." Marinette considered it. As she had considered it plenty of times before. "I miss them, sure, but they're on such a different level, especially the two of them together."

She paused and turned to look at him, his frown close, his eyes searching for the words between her voice.

"What do you mean?"

"They're so far," she explained, somewhere between embarrassed and unafraid. "They're exactly what you'd expect from the best of the best. And that's exactly what they are! They're so amazing and they can make each other happy and it doesn't matter what I do because I won't fit into that. I'm just not like them."

She broke his gaze.

"Marinette, I'm sorry you feel disconnected from them, but you know that's not how they see you. They've all but told you as much."

"But they don't love me."

Marinette realized she should have seen it a long time ago.

Luka cocked his head.

"They don't love you? In what way?"

"It's hard to explain," she admitted with a sigh, "but they have a lot going on, and they don't have the time or space for much more than each other."

"I hate to break up your train of thought and I'm listening to every word, but I feel like this will be easier on you if you use 'I' statements like we talked about before."

She frowned, her mind set. "Okay."

She sipped her drink as she thought about how to say what she wanted to say. It felt like a confession, to some priest or their judge.

"I think that when I'm friends with people, a part of me really starts to love them."

Luka watched her, waiting as she paused. He set aside his drink on the ground by his feet, turning more to her, the slightest hair closer.

"And when we're close," she continued, "really close, true friends, I almost can't tell where that friend love starts or ends. But I don't feel like I've gotten that close to either Adrien or Kagami, but I still feel it - more, even. I just admire them so much and I don't want my friends to slip away."

"I thought you not-friend-love loved Adrien?"

"It's like that, but more."

Luka let out a breath.

"I'm sorry," Marinette chuckled. "I know it doesn't make sense."

"It's not that it doesn't make sense. It makes as much sense as it needs to."

He smiled.

"You're just filled with love, Marinette. And you spread it so easily to those around you."

"But isn't it weird? I feel like a scumbag that I can't even let myself get close to someone without making things weird."

"Hey, don't call yourself a scumbag," Luka replied. "That's my friend you're talking about, and I don't let people be mean to my friends."

Marinette smiled.

"Thanks, Luka."

She turned to the guitar again, its blemishes casting dim shadows on its form under the soft light of Luka's room.

"Aren't you just afraid you'll ever get tired of playing guitar?"

"Why's this coming up?"

She turned to face him, feeling the tears pool as they threatened to slice down her cheeks.

"It's just that it can't last forever, can it?"

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the angst! I feel like this could be extended a little bit, or not. I like it as a little dose of angst.
> 
> Comments and kudos give me so much serotonin.


End file.
